


Penny for Your Thoughts

by codependentsoulmates



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1256056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codependentsoulmates/pseuds/codependentsoulmates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: During a hunt, the monster of the week infects Dean, making him incapable of telling a lie (think of a “Liar liar” situation) (prompt courtesy of howdoistopp @ tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penny for Your Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the chappedassmonkey supernatural fanfic challenge.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Sam says but he can’t keep the soft smile off his face. Dean’s laughter, his genuine laughter, has always been able to brighten up his day for at least an hour or two, no matter how bad it is. Currently, they just narrowly managed to escape a group of pissed off bikers because Dean, who has been cursed into telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God, told one of them that  his girlfriend looked like ‘Sarah Jessica Parker before makeup and airbrushing’. Now, the chick really was kind of ugly, but obviously the bikers didn’t want to hear that. They came scarily close to dying by human hands but managed to get away and Dean laughed the entire ride back to the motel.

“Yeah, well, she was hideous and I can’t tell a lie,” Dean laughs throwing his duffle onto his bed. One nearest to the door, like always. “Did you see the bald one’s face? Fuckin’ priceless, dude. Thought he was gonna pop a goddamn blood vessel.” Dean turns to throw Sam a cheeky grin, green eyes sparkling with mirth. It makes Sam’s heart beat just a little bit faster; it isn’t every day he gets to see Dean like this. “You were a pretty good peace-keeper, though, bro. Tried your best.”

“He was ready to rip you to shreds, Dean,” Sam replies, soft smile growing brighter and wider. “Should’ve let him. Maybe it would teach you a lesson.” Dean laughs at that and Sam feels his heart swell. He never would have thought that a curse like this could bring so much happiness and laughter to their lives, but Dean’s in stitches and Sam feels like he can’t breathe for being assaulted with Dean’s boundless laughter and despite nearly dying the most uneventful death they could ever have, it feels like one of the best days he’s ever had.

Dean wipes tears from his eyes, free hand holding his side as his laughter slowly subsides. “That was amazing, you can’t deny it. And it’s a hell of a lot better than nearly blowing our cover.”

Sam has to agree. Frankly, the whole ordeal had been terrifying. That was the biggest con of this curse that outweighed all the pros that he is experiencing right now. Luckily, Sam’s lie telling abilities were still intact so he was able to guide them out of the impending problem smoothly. But still, they’ve taken to leaving Dean in the car while Sam did most of their con work. Dean hates it, especially because it means that he can’t hustle pool anymore, but they’ve got to keep each other alive. And Sam will be damned if he lets Dean get killed on his watch simply because his brother is incapable of lying to save his skin.  

“Anyway,” Dean says, breaking Sam out of his thoughts. “I call first shower.”

***

Sam’s aware of Dean’s stare the moment he exits the bathroom. Ever since he was younger he can always tell when Dean’s eyes are on him. When he went to Stanford, he felt acutely alone; missing the heated weight of Dean’s stare. Jess helped to dull the pain but it was always there. Their first hunt together again made him realize that he was stupid to think that he could live forever without that constant reminder that Dean was watching him; either to  keep him safe, to reassure that Sam was still there, or just to appreciate his body. Dean’s gaze on him was like Sam’s own personal niche in the world, the place where he truly belonged. And right now, Sam can feel the heat radiating off Dean’s gaze in waves, can feel where it lingers where the towel curves to fit the form of his ass. And Sam wants to know what Dean’s thinking.

He doesn’t want to take advantage of Dean’s curse, but he knows he will never ever get Dean’s true feelings out otherwise. Opting not to get dressed, he crosses the room to Dean’s bed and sits beside him. Dean doesn’t look away, even when Sam locks gazes with him. Sam reaches out to rest his hand on Dean’s foot, stroking the inside of his ankle with his thumb. Something hangs in the air and seems to zing through his finger tips. The last time he and Dean got intimate was the night he left for Stanford and it had been full of tears and gnashing teeth and biting fingers.

The look on Dean’s face begs Sam not to do it but,  _sorry, Dean._

“What are you thinking, Dean?” Sam says quietly. It’s so soft that if Dean wasn’t under this curse, he could pretend he never heard it. But the witch got Dean good and he curses before answering because he just can’t  _not_ answer.

“Missed you,” Dean says, equally as softly, voice barely a whisper. “Sammy, you don’t fuckin’ know how much I hate you right now.” And Sam just rubs the inside of Dean’s ankle, staying quiet, not wanting to break the moment. “I really missed you. I missed everything about you. I missed your smile, I missed how you fought with dad, you were so damn passionate about our childhood, about me. Missed how you stood up for me in front of him.  _Dammit._ I missed the noises you’d make when –”

“Shh.” Sam interjects, cutting him off. His hand trails up Dean’s leg, stroking and soothing and he watches carefully as Dean shivers. Something precious hangs in the balance. They’ve just started being brothers again, and Sam doesn’t know if he should risk that. But fuck if he doesn’t miss Dean too. Fuck if he doesn’t want this. Sam inhales deeply, watching Dean watch him and it feels like they’re on a cliff, about to topple over into  the great unknown and it’s terrifying, it’s horrifying but as long as Dean holds his hand as they careen into an abyss of ‘ _what if’_ Sam knows everything’s going to  be okay. He’s got Dean back, he’s got his all in all back, and everything’s going to be just fine. 

Sam draws away from Dean and unwraps the towel from his waist. Dean’s eyes follow the movement, riveted, and Sam can hear the breathing get hitched in Dean’s throat. “What are you thinking?” Sam asks again, quiet, almost unsure.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” Dean answers. His cheeks redden, making his freckles stand out and Sam wants to kiss him. So he does. He kisses him sweetly, longingly, soft and lingering and Dean responds in kind.

When the kiss is broken, Sam feels weightless, like he’s really flying off into a great unknown and Dean’s looking at him like he’s a priceless jewel. Or something like that. Sam opens his mouth to ask Dean what he’s thinking again but his brother beats him to it.

“Did you know, your eyes are kinda like sunflowers?” Dean murmurs, a hand reaching out to draw an abstract pattern on the inside of Sam’s thigh. “Like sunflowers, drifting in a lake, or a pond. Or something.”  Sam has to laugh; Dean never was an eloquent person who liked to wax lyrical about any and everything. Sam leans forward to pull Dean’s shirt off, running his hand over the bare skin and trying to reign in the feeling of  _holy shit_ because it had been ages since he’d felt allowed to touch Dean like this.

“Did _you_ know,” Sam counters, hands inching towards the button of Dean’s jeans. “That your eyes are kinda like clovers? Lazily saying hello on a bed of dewy grass.”

“Dude,” Dean says, blushing again. Sam loves to see him blush and he presses a kiss to Dean’s freckles.

They need to find a cure for this thing because they can’t keep nearly getting pummeled or outed as con men. But as Sam pulls Dean in close and surprises him with another kiss, he can’t help but feel thankful. The curse got him both Dean’s unbridled laughter  _and_ the love he’d been missing for years. And when Dean breathes into his ear _"_ _I think I’m kinda in love with you, Sammy",_ Sam struggles to find a problem with this curse in the first place. 


End file.
